


the lust to feel

by amante



Series: 2017 "the 100" kink meme fills [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Beach Sex, Dream Sex, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Kink Meme, Masturbation, Muscles, Nudity, Public Nudity, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, more dirty tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amante/pseuds/amante
Summary: He's never courted a noblewoman before, but something tells him it's not meant to go like this. Abigail Griffin, née Tully, is not like anyone Marcus Kane has ever met before.Game of Thrones AU





	1. that craving for darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into fic in a longass time so I apologise for being rusty. This has also NOT been beta read so there may be mistakes.
> 
> Also I got really fucking asoiaf-heavy. TURNS OUT I AM TRASH AS HELL AND LOVE TO CREATE DETAILED AUs. It’s been a few years since I read the books though so I hope all info is correct. Feel free to ask any questions about this. I’ve set it during the first book/season of Game of Thrones, and have pretty much bastardized the 100’s story completely.

Abigail Griffin, née Tully, is starting to think a curse has been placed on herself and her sisters – no, her entire family. A raven arrived today informing her of Ned Stark’s death and she feels her recently mended heart breaking into a thousand pieces all over again. She lost Jacob, Lysa lost Jon, and Catelyn has now lost Ned all in the span of a year. What did she and they do to deserve the Gods taking their husbands from them? Furthermore, Catelyn’s letter mentions that Robb is leading an army to fight the Lannisters, their middle sister Lysa is descending into madness, their father’s illness is worsening, and her brother, Edmure, is currently a prisoner of the Lannisters in their family castle of Riverrun.

Abby has never felt more alone than in this moment. The thought of her family so broken and scattered across the country makes her want to scream, and the idea of the Lannisters sitting where she grew up makes her feel sick. She misses Catelyn more than anyone. Their mother died in childbirth when she was only a year old and Cat filled that role as best she could despite the mere six years between them. What she would give to hug her big sister right now.

Even if she could make the journey to Westeros to meet with Cat, she knows the Council of Arkadia won’t approve her leave. Their Commander of the Guard, Marcus Kane, certainly won’t. With Robert Baratheon dead and Cersei Lannister surely commanding the throne, they can’t afford to let anyone of her heritage leave their island, and definitely not their best healer.

She’s more talented at healing than any Maester by far; whispers that she must have magic in her blood roam the streets of nearby Tarth. Maybe it’s magic that makes her so talented at healing and is cursing the rest of her family; the gods do always take something for what they give.

As the youngest of four, Abby was lucky to have avoided a marriage of political origins, and since the House of Griffin was originally from her home region, the Riverlands of Westeros, her parents allowed her to marry her first love Jacob Griffin and move with him to the strange but welcoming island of Arkadia.

Arkadia is an interesting island in the Narrow Sea between Westeros and Essos; further east than Tarth, trading mostly with the cities of Essos – especially Tyrosh – and prone to raids from the local Grounder pirates. However, it’s not quite Westerosi or Tyroshi. It’s an amalgam of the best and worst of both places: Tyrosh’s fortresses, greed, and mixed religions; Westeros’ mixed ethnic groups, pride, and technology.

Arkadia certainly isn’t a bad place to live – there is nowhere else a woman would be able to be the main Healer and a Council member – but it’s not entirely perfect either. After all, her husband Jacob was floated out at sea for trying to bring attention to the covered-up issue of the sickness sweeping their crops. Due to their position in the Narrow Sea and the many centuries since the House of Griffin first sailed to settle on the island, the nearby Westerosi no longer consider them part of the Seven Kingdoms and wouldn’t provide healthy crops. Without aid, Arkadia would have starved. Jacob thought telling their citizens would lead to everyone finding a solution together; Chancellor Jaha thought it would end in war, and sentenced Jacob to death. The news escaped anyway and in the end, Abby called upon her Tully name to broker a trade deal: goods bought from the Free Cities in exchange for food from the Riverlands. Arkadia was saved, but it was too late for her husband. There is nothing she regrets more than how she handled that issue.

It’s been a year since the crop sickness and Jacob’s death, and while it hurts, she has learned to cope with the pain of it all. She thought she had, anyway, until this letter shattered her last threads of hope for her family. Ned Stark may have hurt her sister by fathering his bastard son but he seemed to love Cat, and he certainly didn’t deserve to be publicly beheaded. She cries for her sister and her children. It has been many years since she, Jacob and Clarke visited them but she fondly remembers Clarke and Robb playing with wooden swords, and Clarke teaching Sansa how to paint. She remembers reading to the little ones, Arya and Bran, while baby Rickon was still growing in her sister’s belly. Sometimes she wishes she had birthed more children, but the Gods only blessed her with Clarke.

Her mind turns to Clarke and she feels another tear fall to her cheek. Her daughter is leading an expedition of a hundred of their youngest minds to find a second suitable island to farm. Westeros is far too instable right now to continue to rely on her trade deal with the noble houses of the Riverlands. And with this newfound knowledge of her brother being a prisoner of the Lannisters, she is glad her daughter is sailing the Exodus ship to find them new soil. She misses Clarke every day but knows she is on an important journey. She wonders sometimes if this is how her father felt when she had left for Arkadia with a boy she met at Cat’s wedding. At least she can find solace knowing that Clarke will return to her in a few moons.

“Lady Griffin?” a gentle voice asks and she looks up from where she’s sitting against the wall of the Council room, unaware she had even collapsed to the floor. Her hands are shaking as she holds her sister’s letter in her hands; the ink thoroughly smudged by tears. Marcus Kane stands above her, looking down upon her with concern written on his face. “I heard you received a raven?”

“My sister’s husband, Eddard Stark… he has been executed by King Joffrey Baratheon…” she whispers, an unbridled sob escaping her. Saying the words makes it more concrete, but she ploughs on out of need to share this information with someone, to relieve the burden. “My brother is a prisoner of the Lannisters, my nephew is leading an army against them, my other sister is gone mad, and my father is dying…”

“Oh, Abigail,” Marcus whispers, trying to wrap his thoughts around the information. He drops to his knees in front of her. “Is there anything I can do?”

She shakes her head, her mind a numb mess. “Bring Clarke home?”

“It won’t be much longer until the hundred return,” he murmurs comfortingly, feeling awkward and unsure of what to say. He is no noble-born and he worries his soldier-nature will cause him to offend her right now. Instead, he offers her his arm and suggests, “You should see my mother, she will give you good counsel.”

Abby takes his arm and silently thanks the Gods that Arkadia allows women to wear trousers, else she would have exposed her undergarments to him. She gives him a small smile as they stand up, appreciating his kindness. Marcus Kane hails from the river Greenblood in the south of Dorne, the very south of Westeros. He grew up living on river rafts as his people have always done. As such, his Rhoynar heritage lends him many different opinions to her Tully ones. However, the two of them have become unlikely friends over the past year, putting their differences aside for the good of Arkadia. Marcus leads her out of Arkadia towards his mother’s home, sensing that she’d prefer silence right now as they walk through the town.

Vera Kane’s home is a large raft suspended on the small river that runs between the Godswood and the ocean, but still inside the fortified walls encircling Arkadia. The Kanes are Orphans of the Greenblood; descendants of the Rhoynar who fled Essos for Westeros a thousand years prior. Their ancestors never gave up their beliefs for those of the Westerosi. Abby still smiles when she remembers telling Marcus how her niece, Arya, named her direwolf Nymeria after the ancient Rhoynar warrior queen, and how Marcus’ face had lit up with pride. She wonders if he ever feels isolated here, living on an island in between where he grew up and where his ancestors are from, but belonging to neither region.

* * *

 Taking one look at Abigail’s face, Vera cups it with gentle hands, taking the younger woman away from her son and helping her aboard her raft.

“My dear, what is it?” the kind woman asks.

Abby relays the information of the letter, unable to contain her sobs anymore, as she had managed to mute them somewhat around Marcus. Vera sighs and fetches a cup of water from the river around them, wetting a cloth to clean Abby’s face.

“I’m so sorry, Abigail. You do not deserve this,” Vera murmurs as she gently strokes the cloth over Abby’s tear-stained cheeks.

“But what if I do?” Abby whispers, finding it hard to breathe.

“Why do you think that?” Vera’s voice is calm and soothing, though it’s still not enough to stop the sorrow from overcoming her.

“B-because it’s my fault Jacob is dead. And my healing skills must be magic – the Gods are punishing me-”

“Shhh,” Vera hushes her. “Your healing skill is not magic – it is your intellect – and if it were magic, it would be a gift from the Gods. You have done nothing to warrant their punishment, you hear me?”

Abby nods, though she doesn’t quite believe her. Vera sighs and drops the cloth into her lap, taking Abby’s hands in hers and deciding distraction is the best course.

“You see the paintings along the side of my raft there? The blue line is the River Rhoyne, the Mother Rhoyne. She nourished my people, gave us life, I may be an Orphan, separated from our Mother, but she still gives us life. All water is connected, it flows together between the lands, and in our bodies. We are all connected through the Mother. Though you may be separated from your family, you are all still connected through her healing waters.”

Vera’s voice is soothing and while Abby may not be able to truly believe in the River Rhoyne, the idea is reassuring. Vera continues to point out other paintings on her raft – a twisted tree from the Greenblood river in Dorne that she and Marcus used to anchor their raft to when they slept at night; the mountains of Essos where their people came from; fish that their people have always speared. It’s a beautiful raft, and Abby has always been fascinated by the idea of them living on rafts on a river their whole lives. She supposes it’s not too different to their small island of Arkadia, except instead of a raft floating on a river, their island is surrounded by vast sea. She wonders if that’s one of the reasons Marcus chose to flee here with his mother, she reminds herself to ask him.

She stays another hour for herbal tea and cake with Vera before making her way back into town. She feels much better but decides to skip dinner in favour of lying down, suddenly feeling too exhausted to deal with anyone’s questions. She’s sure Marcus and Vera will inform the Council of her family’s news and word will spread to their few thousand citizens shortly.

* * *

 Abby rises before dawn the next morning, and when she cannot return to sleep she decides to go for a swim in the river before breakfast. Judging by the dim glow on the horizon, the sun is not too far from rising. She dresses and makes her way out of the keep. Though Arkadia no longer follows Westeros’ traditions, they still consider the Keep property of the Griffin family, their original settlers. It feels empty living in there alone, with only her few servants for company; Abby’s heart aches for Clarke to return. She makes a stop by the rookery, as if hoping another raven arrived in the night to tell her the previous letter was a mistake and that in fact, Catelyn and her family are perfectly fine and are coming to visit. Shaking her head, Abby makes her way out of the rookery and down into the paved streets of Arkadia which will be alive with activity in a few hours.

The sun is rising by the time she reaches the river and she smiles, undressing and stepping into the cool waters. It’s a warm morning already and the cool water against her skin is refreshing, helping her wake up and rid herself of the previous day’s lingering sorrow. She bathes in a wide, calm part of the river and allows nature to clear her mind. There’s nothing she can do for her family from here, and allowing sadness to take over her won’t do. Tully women must be strong. The river flows gently; it meanders from the hilly side of the island to the flat beaches without much more than a couple of tiny rapids in its journey. She’s floating on her back and staring up at the beautiful colours of the morning sky when there’s a splash nearby.

“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

Abby shrieks and sinks into the water, her feet touching the muddy bottom of the river as she finds Marcus Kane standing only a few yards from her, a leather wrap around his waist and a spear bearing a fish held in his hand. He looks like one of the ancient Essosi heroes from the songs and books of her childhood.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says.

“I… It is a beautiful… morning indeed,” she replies, scattered by looking at him and trying not to feel too self-conscious about standing naked in the water beside him. At least her breasts are covered right now and the sun is too hazy to give him a clear view. Though she wonders how much of her body he saw when she was floating before – a part of her doesn’t care at all and she questions where she got that idea from.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks as he lifts the fish closer to inspect it.

“I suppose so. Talking with your mother helped.”

“I’m glad. I hate to see you upset,” Marcus smiles at her.

She watches as he tears the fish’s gills from its body with his fingers, the muscles of his arms rippling with the movement. It’s a different method of killing a fish to what they used in the Riverlands growing up, but it’s certainly mesmerising. She doesn’t know why she keeps finding herself so interested by Marcus these days. They used to fight with each other all the time at Council meetings, and still do most weeks.

“I didn’t know you fished here,” she says, needing to say something else before she gets lost staring at his body.

“I do sometimes. When the weather is warm and I don’t have the morning patrol. Mother likes me to visit her, too. She is always up at dawn for her morning chants.”

Vera Kane lives further upstream than where they currently are, and continues her people’s long tradition of morning chants to the river. Abby suddenly wonders why Marcus no longer follows their customs as strongly.

“Do you not believe in the Mother Rhoyne as your mother does?” Abby asks curiously, before wondering if that is perhaps an insensitive question.

Marcus simply shakes his head, seeming amused. “No, I abandoned that faith many years ago. While I can appreciate the river, I have seen too much in my time as a soldier to believe in its power any longer.”

“I understand,” Abby nods. “And is that why you no longer live on a raft?”

“One of the reasons. Mostly I'm now accustomed to a more comfortable bed,” he laughs.

Abby laughs with him, trying hard not to picture his bedroom. She's suddenly acutely aware that she's still naked in the water next to him; their easy conversation made her forget. Thankfully the chimes from the tower sound out around them, breaking the silence before she can embarrass herself.

“Would you like to have breakfast with me, Abigail?” Marcus asks her, kindness in his dark brown eyes.

“Oh, I, um-” Abby can't possibly accept that request in the nude.

“I apologise,” he says before she can stutter any longer. “I merely wanted to provide you with company after the day you had yesterday.”

“Thank you,” she manages to find her manners. “I’m afraid I must get to work. I have much to do after taking yesterday off.”

“I understand. I wish you a pleasant day,” he says, smiling kindly.

Marcus bids her goodbye and makes his way out of the water onto the bank. He walks upstream towards his mother’s raft where he’ll smoke the fish he caught and join his mother for breakfast. He doesn't have patrol today, only a Council meeting in the afternoon which he hopes Abigail will attend. He often forgets how the Westerosi get embarrassed about nudity and how they read too much into even the most innocent of requests. He worries that he may have offended the lady by approaching her during her bathing ritual; he simply saw her lying in the water and wanted to make sure she wasn’t trying to drown herself after the previous day. If he got to admire her beautiful, naked body for a few seconds then that was an added but unintended bonus.

* * *

Abby misses the Council meeting, blaming it on grief, a busy day treating the ill and catching up on yesterday's work. There is absolutely no part of her that skips the meeting out of embarrassment over the morning's events at the river.

Though she felt lonely this morning, people have been coming up to her all day to offer their support or condolences, and she doesn't know which is worse. Abby dines with her trainee, Jackson, and the town’s other healers, then retreats inside the keep for the evening. She feels more tired than usual after a day at work and she suspects she is subconsciously still affected by her sister’s letter more than she’d like to believe.

Inside the keep she removes her mourning black clothing for a comfortable robe, and settles in the library to read, while Lyra, her handmaiden, lights a fire and draws her a bath. Unfortunately, the words on the page are unable to occupy her attention for more than a few moments. Her thoughts keep drifting, and surprisingly they're drifting to the handsome Dornish man rather than her family's problems.

How things have changed in the last year. Only nine months ago, he tried to get her floated for overusing medical supplies to save lives. Back then he lived to enforce the Arkadian laws and seemed so different from his Rhoynar mother; Abby never understood how he could have come from the same part of Dorne, but after he led a terrible battle against the Grounder pirates, where thirty-two Arkadians willingly sacrificed their lives so that the rest of the city could live, Marcus began to change.

Overcome with guilt, he’s been doing everything he can to change the laws and repent for his past decisions. Being a small island they must have strict laws to survive between Westeros and Essos, but there’s no need to float people for nonviolent crimes or whip the children who stole food during their crop sickness crisis. As he’s relaxed these past few months, he’s been stripped back to the man she imagines he was in Dorne, before being a soldier changed him. He’s a very pleasant person now, she no longer wants to claw her eyeballs out around him, in fact, she’d very much like to keep her eyeballs so she can stare at him.

Shifting from the library to the bath hasn’t helped her at all. Sure, it relaxes her body but it only serves to remind her of the last time she was naked. Naked and close to the beautiful southern man currently occupying her thoughts.

Naked and alone in the tub, Marcus the only thing on her mind, Abby’s hands drift south.

Her loins are pulsing with heat as she recreates the morning's events with closed eyes, now able to linger on the memory of his body without any embarrassment. She remembers being confronted immediately with his naked torso. His body looks like it was chiseled out of stone, his bronzed skin covered with droplets of water, a fine smattering of dark hair covering his chest and creating a path down between his legs.

She had looked up at his face next; smiling automatically upon seeing the friendly grin upon his lips. His pearly teeth had beamed out at her from underneath his trimmed beard. She never really found beards attractive before, but it looks beyond incredible on him. His hair and beard were wet, no doubt from his morning fishing. The drops of water stuck in his beard made her wonder what he’d look like with her liquid on his face. She blushes, unable to believe how lewd her thoughts are getting. She’s stroking her sex with both hands now, shuddering as pleasure runs through her body.

This morning his cock was unfortunately hidden behind a leather cloth but now it is missing. She imagines it before her, long and thick, with its velvety skin pulled back to expose its large head. It juts out proudly from his body, the gentle water lapping against his heavy balls. He's washing himself now, bathing in the river next to her. His large soapy hands sliding over his body, down his chest, following the trail of dark hair down to his thick cock.

He touches himself slowly, pulling on his cock, the turgid length not even fitting in his two hands. She imagines moving towards him in the water, pressing her smaller body up against his, her nipples hard in the bath despite the steam. She imagines him filling her, stretching her wide, much wider than her fingers are now. His hands would be on her waist, easily lifting her out of the water to lift her down onto him.

Her fingers delve inside her warm cunt, her legs splayed on either side of the tub and water splashes around her. She's moaning softly, thankful for the many walls between her and her handmaiden’s chambers. Grateful for her privacy she lets herself succumb completely to her fantasy. Marcus kisses her throat, pushing her head backwards with his strong hands, dominating her, laying her out across his mother’s raft and ramming his cock inside her cunt.

Abby fucks herself more quickly now, her fingers replicating the speed with which Marcus is slamming inside her. He would be gentle but strong, one large hand grabbing her ass to hold her in place, another hand covering her breast and tweaking her nipple. He's a living God of Sex, she's decided. He's making her feel pleasure in ways she hasn't felt in a long time. A few more strokes and she's coming, her body shaking as the pleasure overwhelms her. Her moans echo off the stone walls and she succumbs to the bliss.


	2. what it does to you

It’s been three days since Marcus saw Abigail by the river. He feels guilty, sure that he embarrassed her, and he’s determined to apologise to her. In his spare time between his duties he has tried to seek her out but he’s been unable to find her. She’s either been on a house call to someone unwell, collecting plants from the woods, visiting her friend Raven or doing needlework with a group of women. She’s been noticeably absent from the meals at Nygel’s tavern too – even at the week’s end when they serve her favourite Dornish plum stew. His mother introduced the stew to Arkadia and Marcus loves that Abigail enjoys it. She usually eats in the tavern with the local crowd, having once mentioned that dining in the keep makes her feel lonely these days, so he’s concerned that she seems to be eating alone.

Marcus enters the Council building for a quick morning meeting. He doesn’t expect Abigail to be here, but not long after he’s sat in his chair he sees movement in the side of his vision. She's entered the room and is speaking with Thelonius about something before making her way over her chair next to his with her usual grace. He lets out the tension he didn’t realise he was carrying and turns to her, deciding an immediate apology is required.

“Abigail, if I offended you the other morning, I am truly sorry,” he says, hoping he sounds sincere.

She can barely meet his eyes but she offers him a small smile. “You did nothing wrong.”

He thinks he sees a look of guilt cross her face and he frowns, wondering what she’s thinking. He wishes she would talk to him. Now that he’s had a few days to process the news from her sister's letter he thinks he’ll be able to comfort her if she needs it. Years of fighting – as a soldier in the Dornish army, as a sellsword when it earned him more money, as an assassin in Tyrosh – hardened his soul, but he is slowly letting himself unravel. He is starting to think he’d like a woman to share his bed with on a permanent basis.

The meeting starts before he can press her any further and she spends the entire time avoiding looking at him, even when he is speaking. When the session finishes, she scampers out of the room like a frightened mouse, and Marcus is left more confused than ever.

He works out his frustrations in the training yard, taking over from Miller to run drills with the trainees. He fights for hours, working up a sweat but finding no relief from his frustrations. On his way home, he stops by the library to get a book on the Great Houses of Westeros to see if he can find any clues as to why Abigail Griffin acts the way she does. Is it custom for Tully women to ignore men who have offended them? Was his apology insufficient?

* * *

Abigail hasn't felt like this in many years. Every time her thoughts drift to Marcus she feels a throb between her legs, she remembers what she did in the bath, and she turns bright red. She can't control it; five days since their morning in the river and it's become a permanent part of her day. Any time Marcus is mentioned – when she's healing a trainee soldier injured in the yard, when she's talking to other council members, when she’s talking with Vera – she feels instantly aroused and has to fight to hide it.

She's a woman obsessed with sex and it's a thousand times worse when in Marcus’ presence so she's taken to avoiding him. The last time she was this lust-driven she was newly married to Jacob Griffin. For her to feel this way about another man, a man she isn't married to, is unheard of in her upbringing. A widow should be forever in mourning for her dead husband.

“Abby? Are you listening?” Raven Reyes’ voice cuts through her wandering thoughts.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said that if we mount the rudder on the stern with a pintle-and-gudgeon attachment we will be able to build larger, sturdier ships,” the young craftsman explains.

“Fantastic… What is a pintle-and-gudgeon attachment?” Abby asks, not understanding those words.

“I just said - Abigail, were you listening at all?”

Abby is silent, embarrassed that she was caught not paying attention to her friend. Raven Reyes is one of their best craftsmen. Her father, Jacopo Sinclair, saw her potential from a young age and made her his apprentice. Abby loves Arkadia for this reason – their women are treated as equal.

“Sorry,” Abby finally says, shaking her head.

“Never mind. If you bring me to a council meeting I can explain it myself,” the younger woman says.

“I, yes. Let's do that.”

Abby knows she's in no state to properly understand the intricacies of shipbuilding right now but she trusts Raven knows what she's talking about. She loves the younger woman's intelligence and assertiveness. Its rare someone would suggest they come to a council meeting themselves but Raven Reyes is unlike everyone else.

“I know it’s been a difficult week… Are you certain you don’t want to talk about it, Abby?”

She hesitates, glancing around the shipyard to verify everyone around them is busy with their work. She doesn’t want word of this getting out. but talking about with Raven is appealing; her friend has been very supportive this past week and Abby can’t possibly discuss this with Vera.

“I can’t stop thinking about Marcus,” Abby blurts.

“Kane?” Raven’s jaw drops in an unladylike manner. “Marcus Kane?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you hated him?”

“We are… friendly.”

“I’ll wager,” Raven laughs.

A horrid blush is creeping up Abby’s face and she finds herself unable to reply because she’s too concerned with tampering down her lust. The younger woman, intuitive as ever, takes her arm and leads her into the side chamber where the ship designs are kept. Alone and behind a closed door, Abby explains to Raven how Marcus had comforted her and taken her to visit Vera after receiving the letter, and of their unexpected meeting in the river the next morning.

A knock on the door interrupts them before they can discuss this any further. Raven is needed for repairs on one of their fishing boats and must return to work. She gives Abby a pointed look and leaves the healer alone with her thoughts. Raven’s words hold a lot of truth, but it’s hard for Abby to ignore her own upbringing.

* * *

Abigail continues to elude Marcus for half a moon cycle and it’s driving him crazy. He even visits the brothel a few times to try and fuck the vexation out of him, but not even Arkadia’s most talented whores can take his mind off the infuriating healer. It’s not that he wants to _fuck Abigail_ , it’s just that he thought they were friends and now she can’t stand to be around him. He doesn’t understand highborn women sometimes – in Dorne, women would speak freely to men about what they wanted. If she’s still angry at him for interrupting her bathing in the river, then she should simply say so.

They’re in a council meeting; it’s the first time he’s seen her in a few days and she won’t even look at him. He still doesn’t know why she’s angry, and he refuses to think too deeply about why he cares. A year ago he would have been thankful to never see her around; he would have enjoyed the reprieve from her criticisms of his past actions which he now regrets However since becoming friends these past few months, and trying to comfort her when she received her sister’s letter, he feels hurt by her avoidance.

“That’s a terrible idea,” Marcus snaps halfway through her proposal that they offer free healer training to anyone from Tarth in order to foster a better relationship between the two islands.  
  
“Pardon?” Abigail exclaims, turning to look at him directly for the first time in weeks.  
  
“I said that it is a terrible idea. They’ll either steal our advanced knowledge or start spreading more lies about your incredible healing skills being magic-based,” he growls.  
  
He’s being an ass to her over something that isn’t a half-bad idea and he knows it, but this may be the only chance he has to speak with her for God knows how many more days and he’s just so _angry_ at her. She’s crept under his skin and now he can’t stop thinking about her.

“I will oversee the program so that they are unable to steal any knowledge we don’t want them to have, and I doubt they will spread those lies when my teachings help decrease their child-mortality rates,” she hisses, tiny hands balled at her sides.  
  
They argue for a few more minutes – Marcus doesn’t even know what counterpoints he brings up against her, it just feels good to banter with her. Thelonius eventually breaks them up, saying he agrees with her plan, and dismisses the Council meeting. Abigail is quick to stand up but this time Marcus doesn’t let her run out like she has been doing recently.  
  
“I have missed debating with you these last weeks, Abigail,” Marcus says to her. He intended it to come out more scathing but somehow when the words leave his mouth they’re quite fond.

“Oh,” is all she says. She seems startled, unsure about what to say next. He smirks, glad to have the upper ground for the time being. He searches her eyes, trying to figure out what she’s thinking. She still seems guilty and embarrassed but at least she’s not running away from him this time.  
  
“Are you sure you’re alright? I know it’s a difficult time, I should have been more respectful…” he murmurs, staring at Abigail but watching from the corner of his eye as Councillor Diana takes her time walking from the room.

“Perfect, thank you,” Abigail replies, finding her highborn elegance with every moment.  
  
“I did not mean to argue with you there...”  
  
“It’s not a problem, Marcus. And it wasn’t all arguing - Thank you for saying my healing skills are incredible,” she says, and it takes him a moment to realise she’s teasing him.  
  
“They are,” he agrees, wondering what caused her sudden change in personality. She gives him a soft smile and he feels something flutter in his chest so he presses on. “Will I see you at the tavern this evening?”  
  
“They’re serving Dornish plum stew – I wouldn’t miss it.”

* * *

 Abby leaves the Council room with a fluttering in her chest and not just her groin. Something in the way Marcus just spoke to her changed the way she has been thinking about him. She’s been grappling with her desire for him and with the stories she’s heard about him. Last week she finally decided it was not wrong to want another man, and was working up the courage to tell him, when Raven had told her Marcus was seen in the brothel. That had made her wonder if she had misread everything - she had briefly entertained the idea that he did indeed feel the same attraction to her, but pushed the notion from her mind with the news he was visiting whores.

Instead she had resumed ignoring him, busying herself with her work and hoping that the problem would take care of itself somehow. But every night she brought herself off thinking of him, and every Council meeting she avoided his gaze, knowing she wouldn’t see attraction in it.

Until just now in the Council room after the meeting.  
  
He had been full of concern as he apologised for arguing with her – an argument that she had relished because he did mention some issues with her plan that she can now solve. Then he had looked hopeful as he asked if he’d see her at dinner and now she doesn’t know what he wants. Was Raven wrong about him visiting the brothel? Is Marcus Kane actually attracted to her? She decides to meet him at the tavern for dinner and reassess the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, you thought they would fuck so soon? The tension needs to build. ;)
> 
> Please let me know what you thought.


	3. that old greed

Abby and Jackson spend the afternoon crushing and draining poppy seeds to replenish their milk of the poppy stores. The manual labour makes her thirst for a drink with dinner tonight but she's thankful for the effort it required because she hasn't had much time to think about Marcus. She doesn't know what to expect tonight and she hasn't come any closer to decoding how he feels about her.

She stops by the Keep to have a quick cloth-bath and change into a light dress. She wears a linen shirt and pants while working, her hair always braided away from her face, but she decides to wear it down around her shoulders tonight. The days are warm and the nights somehow warmer, and she feels hopeful as she makes her way through the town towards Nygel's tavern. There are multiple taverns but this is her favourite as it has the best food and it generally attracts the least rowdy crowd.

Marcus is seated at a small table for two in sight of the door when she walks in. He sees her immediately and smiles at her, making her bite her lip like she did as a maiden. She walks over to him but before she can even sit down she is pulled into the bosom of the tavern barmaid.

"Abby! I've missed you, dear. I heard the news. How dreadful," Nygel says, reluctantly releasing the smaller woman. "The plum stew is on the house tonight."

"No, no, no," Abby protests, shaking her head, but the other woman refuses to allow her to pay, fussing over her for a few more minutes before letting her go.

Abby laughs as she finally settles opposite Marcus. If anything, Nygel’s appearance has completely cleared her mind of her romantic worries. The barmaid returns quickly with a jug of Dornish summerwine and glasses before leaving them alone.

“Busy afternoon?” Marcus questions as Abby quickly gulps down her first glass of the sweet red wine. He lifts up the jug and pours her another but is glad when she doesn’t immediately drink that too.

“We’ve been crushing poppy seeds and all that pounding is tiring,” she complains.

Something about how she says the word _pounding_ sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his loins.

“You should have told me. I could help,” he smiles, taking a mouthful of the Dornish summerwine and savouring its familiar taste.

“Well we do have to crush more tomorrow… Your help would be appreciated if it isn’t too much trouble?” Abby asks him, holding his gaze over the rim of her glass.

“Not at all,” he murmurs.

“And how was your afternoon?” Abby asks, needing to keep the conversation flowing else she’ll get lost in his eyes.

“It was fine. I’m helping train the new recruits… We don’t have any Bellamy Blakes on our hands this year but they’ll make decent enough soldiers.”

“I hope Bellamy is looking after Clarke,” Abby says wistfully, her mind turning to the Exodus voyage.

“I’m sure he is. Their latest raven sounded promising.”

She nods, smiling as she remembers Clarke’s words. Her daughter had written to say that of all the islands they’d found, one only three day’s sail away from Arkadia was growing their crops well. The hundred still need to remain at sea for another moon at least – they must keep observing all the other islands they’ve planted crops on – but the letter was promising. The sooner Clarke is home, the better.

“Abigail?” his voice cuts through her thoughts and she realises she has been silent for too long.

“I miss Clarke,” she whispers.

“I know. It's hard to be apart from your family,” he replies and she feels like his eyes are staring into her soul.

“Did you miss your mother when you were a soldier?” Abby asks him.

Part of her is afraid Clarke isn't missing her, not after finding out who really told Thelonius about Jacob’s plan. Her biggest fear is her daughter leaving her for some faraway land - which is ironic considering she did that to her own family.

“Every day,” Marcus replies. “But I knew my mother would be okay because she is a strong woman.”

She suspects he isn't talking about Vera from the way he is staring at her.

“I should bring your mother a gift in thanks… I very much like her idea that we're all connected by water. It's beautiful,” Abby says, gulping down her wine to calm her nerves. The conversation has turned serious very quickly and her stomach has resumed doing flips.

“I'm sure she'd like that,” he smiles. “You should visit her at breakfast. She made a wonderful sweet apricot pie yesterday. It was delicious.”

“Pie for breakfast?” Abby's eyes widen, accustomed to eggs, bread and honey for the first meal of the day.

“Why not? Why limit yourself to sweets only at night?” Marcus’ dark eyes are glimmering in the tavern light, Dornish mischief lingering in their depths.

“I fear I'd make myself sick.”

“Try it. Tomorrow,” he presses.

“Oh, if I must.”

He grins victoriously and takes a mouthful of his wine, enjoying the smile creeping over her face. He realises she hasn't smiled much recently – not genuinely at least. This one is full of happiness and it's a relief to see it upon her beautiful face.

The conversation turns to food, discussing what they each ate growing up, what they miss and what they don't. Marcus misses the variety of spices and small dishes; in Dorne they'd always feast upon a multitude of things at one meal. Whereas here – where the stores aren't overflowing, olives and grapes won't grow, and spices must be purchased from Essos – it's not possible to have such variety. He doesn't mind too much since the recent influx of Dornish people has meant their food is spreading throughout Arkadia.

Abby tells him of the wild boars they used to hunt and the feasts they'd have after, and of the extravagant tourneys held every few years with tables overflowing with food. It's the spectacle of the massive feasts that she misses more than the food itself. Though she does quite miss fresh roasted wild boar; any boar they have here has been on a boat for weeks.

When Nygel brings their plum stews it's a relief because Abby is starving and she's been filling herself with summerwine to satisfy her hunger. She eagerly digs into the stew and misses the fond look that crosses Marcus’ face.

* * *

Carrying Abigail Griffin to bed in his arms was not how Marcus Kane pictured his night ending.

He thought they'd have an enjoyable evening, shake off any lingering awkwardness and rekindle their friendship. He thought he'd push a little further with his romantic insinuations, assessing her reactions to see if she was actually interested. He thought he'd walk her home and make plans to see her again because with every minute spent with her he craves two more.

He's never courted a noblewoman before; not properly anyway, but something tells him it's not meant to go like this.

Midway through recounting to her his fight against a Dothraki Khal – which he thought sounded very impressive, and which Abigail certainly seemed intrigued by – the lady in question had turned and vomited all over the floor.

Being quite intoxicated himself, he had failed to keep record of her wine consumption throughout their meal and it was only after she expelled her stomach contents onto Nygel’s newly cleaned floors that he realised a woman of her tiny size shouldn't drink half a jug of wine.

Marcus had left cleaning the tavern’s stone floors in the barmaid’s capable hands and had helped Abigail to her feet. She'd been even worse standing up, crying about her life, so he had swept her up into his arms and decided to carry her home.

By the time he reaches the keep, she is passed out in his arms. The guard on night duty is shocked at the sight, but trusts their Guard Commander to take care of the lady.

“Where is her bedroom?” he has to ask the handmaiden multiple times because she too is stunned at Lady Griffin’s apparent intoxication.

Entering the large bedroom, Marcus carries Abigail over to the bed and settles her on top of the furs. He's not sure what to do next but her handmaiden assures him she can take care of everything. She introduces herself as Lyra and insists he take one of the guest rooms for the night.

He would usually protest but he feels a bit protective over Abigail and also guilty that he didn't monitor her alcohol consumption. She had masked her sadness well but a drunken, tear-filled confession on the steps of the tavern about feeling all alone had made him realise how much she was hurting. She had been drinking wine at an astounding rate and he should have paid better attention to the reasons why.

* * *

Abby wakes in the morning with no recollection of how she made her way home. She remembers Marcus talking to her about his time in Essos - she had been distracted by his hands as he spoke, realising how large they were when wrapped around his wine glass. She remembers imagining what his hands could do to her, remembers his hands on her shoulders, pulling her closer… _Oh_. She remembers.

She is mortified when she recalls how she had _vomited_ in front of him and how he had carried her home. Did she cry as well? He must think her hopeless. What kind of man would want to be with a woman like her? Her actions belong to drunkards, not highborn ladies such as herself.

When she finally rises from her bed, her head spins and she finds she has to sit back down again. She's hunched over trying to quell her churning stomach when Lyra finds her. With the handmaiden’s help she makes her way to the toilet, then has a quick cloth bath and puts on a comfortable dress. It suddenly occurs to her that she had slept in the nude and she wonders who stripped her of her clothing. Lyra assures her that it was her own doing and that Marcus was not around. Abby thanks the Gods for that because she doesn’t think she’d be able to face him again otherwise.

It’s a shock to find the man in question sitting in the dining room.

“Abigail, are you feeling better?” he asks from where he is eating pie at her table.

“I…” her groan answers for her.

He chuckles and stands up, walking over to help her into a seat so Lyra can return to the kitchen to prepare something. Abby's body is aching fiercely and she doesn’t know if she’s going to remember her manners around him right now. She supposes nothing could be more uncivilised than her behaviour last night.

“I apologise for not monitoring your sweetwine consumption,” Marcus says, watching her carefully.

“It’s my fault,” she shakes her head, closing her eyes when the movement makes her skull hurt. “I apologise, it was inexcusable. A lady–”

“ _No_. Do not apologise.” She opens her eyes a sliver and finds he’s looking at her intensely. He continues, unblinking, “A lady may drink as much as she likes. I only meant that I hate to see you unwell.”

She blushes, still unused to his Dornish way of thinking. She would never come back from a scandal like this in Westeros.

“Apricot pie?” he offers, breaking the silence.

“Oh, I… I don't know.”

“You need to eat something. It's my mother's – when you were still asleep at breakfast-time I went for a stroll down to the river to visit her and she gave me some pie for you. Oh, and this,” he gestures towards a small empty bottle. “Drink this to cure your head. Lyra is preparing it now.”

There is much to process in his statement. Firstly, “You slept here?”

“In the guest room. I hope you don't mind, I wanted to be able to keep an eye on you.”

“No… that was very kind. Thank you, ” she replies, having to close her eyes again because her head is throbbing. “And what time is it?”

“It is half noon,” he sounds amused.

“Gods…” she groans.

“Drink this, my Lady,” Lyra pipes up, entering the room and pushing a glass of Vera's steaming potion towards Abby.

“It has a bitter aftertaste but you will feel better in no time,” Marcus assures her.

She downs the drink in one go as he instructs; it does indeed leave her mouth with a harsh, bitter after-taste but a few minutes later as she's biting into Vera Kane’s delicious apricot pie she feels much better.

“Mmmm,” she lets out a positively sinful moan as the first taste of the warm, sweet pie touches her tongue.

“Mother brought apricot seeds over from Dorne to plant her own trees. She could not bear to go without apricot pie,” Marcus informs her.

“I'm glad… This is amazing,” Abby sighs. “I fear I will ruin my appetite for bread and eggs now.”

“I'm sure she wouldn't mind baking more for you… She's really quite fond of you.”

“Well I'm quite fond of her too. She is terribly kind. I'm glad she hasn't tired of me visiting her.”

“You visit her?” He seems surprised and Abby wonders why Vera didn't tell him about her frequent visits.

“Yes, quite a few times since receiving my sister's letter…” Abby pauses for a moment, collecting herself lest her emotions overtake her. “Her wisdom has been very helpful on difficult days…”

“Oh,” Marcus says and she curiously watches a frown cross his face.

“It's nice to have an older woman to speak to,” she explains, wondering what is causing the crestfallen expression on his face. “Thank you for bringing me to see her.”

Marcus’ frown disappears and he flashes her one of his brilliant smiles. She wonders if he is perhaps jealous that she is choosing to see his mother instead of himself. Abby still doesn't have a clear idea of what he feels for her, but based on his actions he seems to care for her wellbeing. She regrets avoiding him for so long, it seems she misread his feelings.

The memory of how he had offered his company that morning in the river crosses Abby's mind. At the time she had been too embarrassed to accept his breakfast invitation, now she wonders where they would be if she had. Maybe she would have spent the past few weeks dining regularly with him instead of ignoring him. Maybe instead of visiting brothels he would have been in her bed.

* * *

“That is the last bowl,” Jackson informs Marcus.

He is following through on his offer to help Abigail crush poppy seeds. Once she had properly woken up she had remembered the poppies and they had raced over to where Jackson had been working alone. Her apprentice had refrained from commenting on her lateness or Marcus’ presence and between the three of them they have made quick work of it.

Abigail is pouring the concentrated white poppy liquid into glass vials, satisfied with the end result of three days’ work. She had explained to him the process – collect the seeds then soak overnight, crush, strain, add water, repeat – and he had listened eagerly. The knowledge she possesses is mesmerising. He's glad her talents aren't being lost on simply being a Lady in Westeros.

“Jackson please take these to the cellar,” Abby says, passing her apprentice the last few vials.

“Shall we have a celebratory drink at the tavern?” Marcus suggests as she wipes her brow, reminding himself to watch her consumption this time. She hasn't shown any signs of being upset today but he is still worried about her drunken admissions of loneliness.

“Oh… I don't think that wise, ” Abigail replies apologetically. “I fear I need a break after last night.”

“No matter. Dinner?” He offers instead, hoping she'll say yes.

“I… I am dining with Raven tonight.”

“Oh.”

Marcus tries to hide his disappointment by turning to clean up his mortar and pestle. He has very much enjoyed their time together last night and today, and he hopes she isn't about to start avoiding him again. He is still unable to understand why she did it – if he didn't offend her in the river then why else would she avoid him? His readings on the Noble Houses haven't offered him any clues.

“Perhaps we could dine at the tavern after the next council meeting?” Abigail offers and he turns back around to find her looking at him nervously.

He smiles widely and accepts her offer, glad that she wants to see him again. He feels out of his depth with her but it seems she may feel the same way too. They work silently to clean the equipment before she thanks him and they part ways at sunset.

Marcus spends the next two days training the guard recruits and trying to get the highborn lady out of his mind. He finds himself getting distracted remembering her laugh or her quick wit. He keeps remembering her skilled hands wrapped around the pestle and at night he imagines them around his cock.

He strokes himself quickly, sitting among the furs on his bed and moaning her name as the pleasure builds. She's a goddess in his mind, hovering between his legs and looking at him with seductive eyes. Her hands are small and his cock doesn't fit between both of them so she has to cover the tip with her mouth. It's sinful and hot as she coaxes him to climax. His seed spills from his hard length in long bursts, loudly hitting the stone floors beneath his bed. He groans in relief and collapses back to the furs, wishing for the real thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think? x


	4. when your teeth meet in divinity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this helps make up for the lack of kabby in the latest episode... what a disappointing reunion.

This Council meeting is almost boring Marcus to sleep. It's not that he wants Arkadia to be in a food crisis or at war with the Grounders, but with everything running smoothly at the moment only the most mundane matters are being discussed. It is only the thoughts of dining with Abigail after this meeting, and of the plan forming in his mind that are keeping him awake. He heard there was another raven from Lady Stark but Abigail doesn’t seem upset so he hopes it was good news, though she isn’t overjoyed either. He hopes his plan will help lift her spirits.

Councillor Diana Sydney is currently trying to convince the council to relax the laws about property ownership in a way that would benefit her. Privately, Marcus thinks Diana would be better suited to climbing the social hierarchy in King’s Landing.

“I have a proposal,” Marcus says once she finally finishes speaking.

He feels Abigail’s curious eyes from his left hand side. With no pressing fights with the Grounder pirates and recruit training well underway, he knows his comment is unexpected.

“Go on,” Chancellor Jaha says, looking intrigued.

“I propose that we hold a celebratory tourney when the Exodus ship returns,” Marcus explains.

A glance to his left shows shock on Abigail’s face. Marcus knows he's the last council member one would expect to propose a tourney but he can't get the thought out of his mind. Abigail had been so wistful when describing the tourneys of her youth and having fought in a few himself, he can't deny that they aren't fun.

“A tourney?” Jaha questions him.

“You are familiar with the term, are you not?” Marcus teases the other man.

“I am. I simply question why we need to have one. Our food stores are far from overflowing and our warriors are-”

“Our warriors are fine fighters,” Marcus interjects. “We may not have anointed knights but there is no reason we must follow Westerosi traditions. I propose we open the tourney to multiple skill levels with joust, melee and archery contests.”

“And what of our food stores?”

“We will invite our allies to participate if they wish. Visitors will add money to our bank with which we can import more food - perhaps even a wild boar or two for a hunt,” he glances at Abigail with this, seeing her eyes widen, “We will be able to replenish our food stores later in the year with the crops that grow on the island that the hundred have so painstakingly searched for.”

Marcus pauses to take in the stunned expressions from the table.

“It is important to celebrate our achievements, especially when they are those of the next generation, and a tourney would be a great way to thank the Exodus voyagers,” he finishes.

Abigail is smiling at him and she is the first to say she agrees with his proposal. The rest of the council eventually concede that it is a good idea and they spend the remainder of the meeting coming up with a plan to discuss at their next meeting. They all agree to keep it a secret from the rest of Arkadia until they have a proper idea of how the event will function.

When the meeting adjourns, Marcus collects his papers and tucks them under his arm, turning towards Abigail as she stands from her chair.

“Do you mind stopping past my house on our way to the tavern?” he asks, “I don't want to lose these plans and have the surprise ruined for our people.”

“Not at all,” she smiles, gesturing towards the door.

He leads the way out of the building and down the street towards his house, neither of them discussing the tourney lest someone overhear. Marcus’ house isn't far from the council room, close to the barracks, and down the hill from the Griffin Keep. He doesn't offer to let Abigail in, he simply unlocks his door and places his papers on a table inside and then returns to find her standing in the doorway with an amused look on her face.

“I would compliment your house but I'm afraid I didn't see much,” Abigail teases him.

“Another time,” he says, then quickly turns around to hide his face as he realises the implications of that. He would love to bring her back to his house again but he doesn’t want to rush her when he’s not entirely certain she feels the same way as he does. He takes his time locking the door so he can get his features under control and then turns back around. He offers his arm to Abigail now that his hands are free. “Shall we?”

She takes his arm with a soft smile and he thinks he sees a hint of pink on her cheeks. They walk past the barracks towards the tavern and the familiar sound of clanging metal rings out around them.

“How has work been?” she asks him conversationally.

“Same as ever. The recruits are going well but there's always more to do.”

“Especially with the… _you know what_ … coming up,” she whispers, glancing around to make sure they aren't overheard; it's very cute.

“Exactly. I’m going to make sure our soldiers are the best they can be,” he says rather proudly.

“Do you expect many foreign soldiers to participate?” she asks him, “Our alliances aren’t that strong…”

He pauses to consider her question, thinking about their trade deal with the Riverlands houses and with the Free Cities. Abigail isn’t the only Westerosi highborn in Arkadia either so they may have some sway with other houses. The prize money isn’t going to be an exorbitant amount, but he still thinks a reasonable number of foreign fighters will come.

“In my experience, many soldiers like to fight simply for the glory or experience. I think there will be at least a few dozen who make the journey. And I plan for our soldiers to give them a good fight,” he replies. He doesn’t mention the rumours of the beginnings of a full-blown war happening in Westeros but he knows Abigail is thinking the same thing. If their soldiers can defeat Westerosi soldiers it will be a way to dissuade anyone from trying to attack Arkadia.

“You will be fighting too, I presume?”

“Of course,” he smiles, “I plan on winning the melee.”

“And the joust too, I hope. You are exceptionally skilled at... riding,” her voice drops low at the end of her sentence and he looks at her sideways. Her face betrays nothing but he is certain that was innuendo.

“Thank you. I certainly hope to put my riding skills to use,” he replies, his lip twitching.

The air around them feels thick suddenly and her hand on his arm feels like an intense connection. He’s startled to realise they’ve made it to Nygel’s tavern when the barmaid’s booming voice calls out to them through the open doorway, beckoning them inside. The tension between them disappears as they settle on opposite sides of a table. Nygel brings them over a jug of water to start with, giving Abigail a knowing look which makes the healer blush.

“No alcohol for us tonight,” Marcus says and Nygel proceeds to tell them the night’s menu.

Plum stew isn’t an option tonight so Abigail orders the bean salad while Marcus opts for the lamb pie. They sit in silence when Nygel leaves them, many unspoken things hanging in the air. He's still not entirely sure where they stand but if that flirting was anything to go by, she’s definitely interested.

“Were you serious about the wild boars?” Abigail asks suddenly.

He holds back a smile lest she think he is mocking her. It is clear to him that she misses many things about her childhood right now, especially considering the state of her family in Westeros, and he wouldn’t want to make light of that. She’s been holding it all together remarkably well considering the latest rumours floating around.

“Absolutely. If it's possible, I want to have a hunt.”

“I would love that…” She whispers.

“I know,” he replies, watching her carefully.

She bites her lip, staring at him intensely. “Marcus…”

“You deserve to be happy, Abigail. If I can help with that in any way then I want to. I know how hard things are for you at the moment.”

“Thank you. I...” she says, pausing as if to consider her words. “I don’t really like hunting myself, but they were always so fun growing up… My father was never happier. He first taught Cat and me to ride during a hunt... I’d very much like to experience one again.”

“I will do my best,” he says solemnly, glancing down when he feels his fingertips touch hers across the table. He didn't notice it but he has leaned forwards and reached for her hand.

She glances down at their hands in surprise but she doesn’t pull away from his touch. Her hand is cooler than his and he wonders how that can be considering the warm weather. She is dressed as she usually is for work - in a blue linen shirt over pants tucked into leather boots, her hair braided and pulled back away from her face. He too is dressed for work in a black leather jacket over a cotton shirt and pants with sturdy boots. He regrets not leaving the jacket at his house earlier because truthfully he is starting to feel the heat, which is why he can’t understand how Abigail can be cold when he is the one who grew up in a hot climate.

“What is it?” she asks and he realises he is frowning.

“Your hands are cold,” he replies.

“Oh, I was down in the cellars mixing new remedies today. I think I’m still warming up,”

“You should have said something at the council meeting, we could have lit a fire.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine,” she laughs.

Marcus shakes his head and takes her hands between his before she can question his actions, and he starts rubbing them gently, hoping to warm them up somewhat.

“Marcus…” she whispers and he thinks he sees a blush creeping across her face in the dim light.

He smiles at her, feeling the tension rising between them again and he finds his gaze dropping to her lips when once again they are interrupted by Nygel.

“One lamb pie and one bean salad,” the barmaid announces.

Abigail pulls away from Marcus to leave room on the table for their plates and she thanks the other woman before reaching to take a sip from her glass of water, unable to meet his gaze.

“This looks good,” he says, filling the silence with small talk and cutting into his pie.

While he doesn’t like that she isn’t completely comfortable with showing him affection, he is now certain that she does feel something for him. He suspects she is struggling with the concept because widows in Westeros are meant to mourn their husbands for long periods of time. She had also mentioned feeling alone when she was drunk and he wonders if the distance from her daughter and sister is stopping her from enjoying herself.

“I heard you got another letter from your sister?” he asks carefully, knowing that if anything truly terrible had happened he would have heard about it.

“Edmure is safe,” she says with a smile. “Robb beat the Lannisters.”

“That is fantastic,” he grins.

“Yes… though Robb has taken to being called the King in the North…”

“Ah. Well if he beat the Lannisters once I’m sure he can do it again,” Marcus replies, trying to reassure her.

Abigail hums and delves into her salad and he knows not to press her any further about her family or the precarious state of the Seven Kingdoms. They eat in silence for a few minutes, letting the loud voices of the tavern surround them. It’s not entirely awkward, though he feels guilty for wiping the smile off of her face. He feels foolish for making her upset and he wishes he had a guide for this sort of thing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers eventually.

“No, don’t be. This all must be extremely difficult for you…” he pauses, taking a deep breath before he continues, “And… I understand if you do not wish to be courted right now.”

He stares down at his pie as he wonders what her response will be. He’s laid his intentions out plainly and he hopes she will be receptive but he fears she will push him away again. She clearly has a lot on her mind right now and he is only adding to her problems. No wonder she ignored him after their unexpected meeting in the river.

“Marcus,” she murmurs.

“Truly, I understand. I will be perfectly okay with simply being friends.”

“Marcus. I don’t want to be friends.”

He feels her hands cover his and he looks up to find her looking shyly at him through her lashes. She looks nervous but completely serious and he grins widely. He doesn’t know what to say so he settles for squeezing her hands. He feels his stomach doing flips and he’s so glad to have confirmation that she feels the same way.

“Tell me that story of how you fought a Dothraki Khal. I promise not to vomit this time,” Abigail jokes to break the ice.

Marcus laughs and they let go of each other’s hands to keep eating while he tells her the story again. They spend the rest of their meal mostly talking about him - he senses she will get upset if he pries too much into her life tonight. He recounts many tales from his life, describing all the places he has lived and explored, loving how intently Abigail is listening to him. At some point in the evening he sheds his leather jacket and he can’t help but notice her eyes dropping to his chest every now and then. He reminds himself to take it slow and not delve into any lewd flirting too soon but that doesn’t stop him from changing his posture so that his muscles strain against the fabric.

“May I walk you home?” he asks when they have finished splitting a lemon tart for dessert and he has paid for both of them.

“Sure,” she replies with a smile.

They walk up the winding streets towards Griffin Keep at the top of the hill in silence. He remembers carrying her up this same path four nights ago and he’s sure she is thinking of the same thing. He doesn’t know what to say to her that isn’t awkward, still finding himself out of his depth when it comes to her, so he decides to reach for her hand. He sees her smile as he takes her hand and he feels his chest flutter. She’s so beautiful, especially when she smiles.

They walk through the gates and it’s a different guard on night duty tonight. He nods his head at Bryan, one of the new recruits, and trusts that there won’t be any gossip from him. It’s not that he and Abigail are hiding, evidenced by holding hands in the streets, but he doesn’t want people talking about her in any crude way. He knows all too well how soldiers can talk. They stop at Abigail’s front door as she fishes out her key. She doesn’t really need guard protection at the gate to the Keep but it is tradition and it’s a way for the new soldiers to learn discipline and sentry training.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” Marcus says as she finds her key.

“Me too,” she smiles.

“When will I see you again?”

“We have a council meeting tomorrow,” her lips twitch in amusement.

“I meant in a non-work capacity,” he says, amused by her teasing.

“Hmm… I’m having breakfast with your mother tomorrow and dinner with Jackson... ” she says, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Dinner with Jackson?” he questions, though he knows they are close friends, and steps closer to her.

“Mmhmm. I am a very busy lady with a very _tight_ schedule.”

He feels his cock twitch at her innuendo and he clears his throat as he tries to remember how to speak. She’s completely captivating him and now that she’s not holding back with her flirting he finds himself drawn to her more than ever.

“Would you be able to fit me into your tight schedule tomorrow? For lunch, perhaps?” he asks, blatantly staring at her mouth.

“Yes… I think I can.”

With that he leans down to press his lips against hers. _Finally_. Her lips are soft against his and soon the kiss is becoming more passionate. She tastes like lemons and he wants to keep kissing her all night. His hands fall to her hips and he hears her sigh against him as their tongues brush together. All too soon it is over and she is pulling away to smile up at him.

“Goodnight, Marcus,” she whispers.

“Goodnight, Abby,” he replies.

He has never used her nickname before but it feels right in this moment. She seems happily surprised by it and he forces himself to leave before he gets too lost in her eyes. His cock is starting to twitch in his pants the longer he looks at her beautiful face and he certainly doesn’t want to push things too far. He heads home with a smile on his lips and anticipation in his chest as he thinks about seeing her again.


	5. driven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay. This chapter is a little longer than usual... and a little sexier. I hope you like it!

There is a cool wind today, rushing through the trees and rocking Vera's raft gently from side to side. Abby trusts that the older woman wouldn't have let her on the raft if there was any danger but she sits in the middle of it regardless, sipping on her tea.  
  
“Here,” Vera says as she places a bowl of fresh fruit on the rug in front of Abby.  
  
“Thank you,” Abby smiles. “This is perfect.”  
  
“You're certain you don't want any tart?”  
  
“No thank you. I have lunch and dinner plans today and I fear I won't be able to finish all that food,” Abby says as she spears a piece of melon with her fork.  
  
“Any special occasion?”  
  
“Oh... not really. Simply seeing friends.”  
  
She hasn't told Vera anything about how she feels about Marcus, especially not the fantasies, but she wonders what Marcus has said to his mother. Vera Kane is a very observant person and Abby has struggled to keep her face composed whenever Vera mentions her son.  
  
“Well I'm glad you're no longer dining alone,” Vera smiles.  
  
“Yes, I feel I'm returning to my old self slowly… It is difficult but Clarke will be home soon and I am surrounded by wonderful people.”  
  
Abby bites into another piece of melon, savouring its sweet flavour. She is starting to feel more like the happy, confident person she used to be. And knowing she'll be seeing Marcus’ handsome face in under an hour makes her giddier than usual.  
  
“There is no rush. Embrace all of your feelings and learn to work with the pain,” Vera tells her wisely.  
  
“And what about you? What are your plans for today?” Abby asks, not wanting the conversation to be dominated by her problems as usual.  
  
“I will be at the market selling some sweets and I will do some painting by the dock.”  
  
“Oh! You remind me, I have something for you.”  
  
Vera looks on curiously as Abby rustles through her bag. She has been meaning to give the Dornish woman a gift for all of her kindness and finally found the perfect gift the other day. It's a set of new paintbrushes and she hopes Vera likes them.  
  
“Oh, Abigail… These are beautiful, thank you. This isn't necessary.”  
  
“It's the least I can do after everything you've done for me…” Abby murmurs, rising up to hug Vera warmly.  
  
“These will be perfect… Maybe I won't go to the market today… I can give my sweets to Marcus instead. He always enjoys them,” Vera muses.  
  
“The apricot pie he brought me was incredible,” Abby says, smiling to herself at how kind Marcus had been.  
  
“Was it? He said he'd be back for more but I haven't seen him since that morning,” Vera muses and Abby wonders what she's thinking.  
  
“I'm sure he's just busy. We have a lot of work to do for the council at the moment,” Abby smiles as she thinks of the tourney, and how wonderful Marcus was to suggest it.  
  
“Oh? Has something happened?”  
  
“Nothing bad… I can't say just yet, but there will be an announcement soon.”  
  
Vera hums and sips on her own tea. Abby eats more of the fruit and doesn't know what else to say; sometimes it feels like the older woman can read her mind. She wonders what Vera would say it she knew Abby was thinking about kissing Marcus again.  
  
“Would you mind giving my son the sweets that I've baked? I don't want them to go to waste and I don't know when I will see him next…” Abby doesn't miss the hint of passive-aggression in Vera's tone.  
  
“Oh, yes. Of course.” She reminds herself to tell Marcus to visit his mother more than once a week.

* * *

“Abby,” Marcus whispers from a shadowy corner of the hallway when the woman in question walks in through the entrance.  
  
“Oh!” She gasps.  
  
“Sorry,” he laughs.  
  
Abby walks over to him and takes his outstretched hand. He tugs her into the unlit alcove with a grin, excited to see her again. She's got her hair down around her shoulders since she won't be working in the infirmary today and it looks beautifully soft. He wants to comb his fingers through her silken strands, preferably after bathing together.  
  
“Good morning,” he hums.  
  
“Good morning,” she replies, her eyes adjusting to the dark and she makes out the wide grin on his face, mirroring her own expression.  
  
 “No. At least, I haven't told her… I wouldn't know what to say… She just knows I'm seeing you at the meeting,” Abby explains.  
  
“Wouldn't know what to say?” he frowns, wondering if she’s losing interest.  
  
“I simply mean… It is early days. We do not know whether this will last–”  
  
“I hope it does,” he says sharply.  
  
“Me too.”  
  
He feels Abby squeeze his hand and he relaxes, letting go of the sudden panic that maybe she will leave and resume ignoring him. But she’s smiling at him so widely it’s impossible to believe she would do that.  
  
“Your mother also gave me some sweets to give you,” she adds.  
  
“Oh?” he asks excitedly.  
  
“I'll give them to you at lunch. I believe we have a council meeting to attend now,” she teases.  
  
“Why don’t we stay here and eat sweets instead?”  
  
Abby stares at him for a moment before swatting at his arm and stepping back from him into the light.  
  
“You’re a terrible influence,” she laughs.  
  
“I disagree. You’re too tempting to resist. I would never miss a council meeting if it weren’t for the idea of eating sweets with you.”  
  
No longer in the shadows, there is no darkness to hide the blush that spreads across her face in response to his charms. His deep accented voice coupled with his handsome looks and flirtatious speak makes her weak in the knees. She wishes they could indeed miss the meeting but she also doesn’t want to rush into anything, as tempting as it is.  
  
“ _Meeting_ , Marcus,” she insists.

* * *

Marcus doesn't end up seeing his mother for three more days. Tourney planning and increased guard training sessions take up all of his time. He and Abby have a wonderful lunch together on the second day of the week but they’re yet to have more than five minutes alone together since then. He sneaks kisses from her before their now-daily council meetings but it’s not enough. They have dinner plans for this evening seeing as it’s the last working day of the week and he’s looking forward to it immensely. Nygel will be serving plum stew at her tavern as usual but he would prefer something more intimate. It's a warmer day today so he's thinking of getting a picnic basket full of food and having a meal down on the beach.  
  
“Marcus!” Vera exclaims happily as he climbs onto her raft carrying a fish he has speared.  
  
“I'm sorry I haven't been to visit,” he apologises as she pulls him in for a hug.  
  
He spent so many years away from his mother both physically and emotionally that he now feels guilty when he doesn't spend enough time with her. He had left her as a young man excited to see the world and returned as a battle-hardened, harsh man; it has only been in the last year that he has found himself returning to who he used to be. He is very grateful for his mother’s kind soul; their first five years back together in Dorne and Arkadia were difficult but she never once stopped loving him.  
  
“Don't apologise. Abigail mentioned you've been working hard in the Council?” Vera asks as he hands her the fish.  
  
“Yes. We have a new project,” he says, smiling when he thinks about the tourney, and how happy Abby is because of it.  
  
“You and Abigail seem excited about it,” his mother comments.  
  
“Hmm?” he asks, startled that she's mentioned Abby.  
  
“You both got the same look on your faces when mentioning it,” she looks at him with the knowing gaze he is all too familiar with.  
  
“Ah, yes, it's an exciting project,” he says, then changes the topic. “So how are we cooking this fish?”  
  
They work together to de-scale and salt the fish at the edge of the riverbank. Vera plans to smoke it slowly over a fire so it’s full of flavour. She sings as they work and Marcus is taken back to his childhood, remembering being a scrawny child unsuccessfully attempting to gut a fish and cutting himself on his first try. When they're finished his mother lies the pieces of fish out on a big flat rock that juts out over her fire pit and he starts a fire.  
  
“Would you like to join me for dinner?” she asks him.  
  
“Oh… I'd love to but I'm having dinner with Abby tonight,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
“Another time then… How long have you two been together?”  
  
“You are both open books about this,” she laughs. “I could tell you fancied her but now I sense the feeling is mutual.”  
  
“Oh…” Marcus shakes his head, of course his mother would know. “It's new. We have dined together a few times now.”  
  
“Wonderful! I'm so pleased for you, darling.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Vera senses her son is too embarrassed to talk any more about his new relationship so she changes the subject. They talk about her paintings and his new training regime for their soldiers, and before they know it the tower bells are ringing in town, signalling the end of the lunch hour. Marcus bids his mother goodbye and makes his way back into town to lead his soldiers in training.

* * *

After seeing Marcus at their morning council meeting, Abby spends her afternoon working on her program to offer free healer training to people from Tarth. She received a raven from the Lord of Tarth accepting her proposal and she is excited to teach healing to some new faces. With Jackson no longer under her direct tutelage and Clarke at sea with the hundred, she has missed having someone to pass her knowledge onto. She isn’t asking anything of Tarth in return for this service, but she hopes that it will eventually lead to a friendship between their two societies.  
  
She finishes up at the infirmary and makes her way through the cobbled streets towards the keep. She hears the clash of swords from the barracks and finds herself wandering in through the large archway to see if Marcus is in the yard leading drills. She will see him for dinner shortly but she can’t resist stopping by, and when she lays eyes upon him she is not disappointed.  
  
Marcus is in the training yard, clad in a white cotton shirt that is drenched through with sweat and clinging to his muscles. He’s fighting in hand to hand combat with Hannah Green. There aren’t many women in the Arkadian guard, but being from Dorne means Marcus certainly doesn’t stop them from joining. Hannah is quick and even manages to evade Marcus’ hits a few times. His movements are graceful but full of strength. His muscles strain against his shirt and his entire body oozes power. He pauses every now and then to explain things to the semi circle of recruits surrounding him and Abby finds herself mesmerised by his voice as well as his body. She’s admiring his back when he turns around suddenly and she looks up to find him staring directly at her. He grins and her eyes widen in embarrassment.  
  
She rushes out of the training yard before he can call out to her, knowing he saw her blatantly watching him. She feels the familiar tingling between her legs as she hurries up the cobbled streets to Griffin Keep. When she enters her home she instructs Lyra to get a bath ready and desperately fights the urge to touch herself. She manages to compose herself as she doesn’t want to be climaxing moments before Marcus takes her out for dinner. She bathes and dresses in a light silk dress, letting her hair out of its braids, then sits in the courtyard reading a novel while she waits for Marcus to arrive. He takes longer than she expects but when Lyra informs her that he’s here, she finds out why.  
  
He is standing in the entrance hall, clean and in fresh clothes, carrying a woven basket full of food which he must have just bought at the market. She was expecting they’d go to the tavern so this is a lovely surprise. She feels her stomach flutter and walks forward to greet him.  
  
“Good evening,” he smiles.  
  
“Good evening,” she replies, slipping her arm through his, ready to let him guide her wherever they are going.  
  
“How was your afternoon?” he asks as he leads her through the streets. She senses a hint of teasing in his voice and isn’t sure whether or not he’s alluding to her watching him at the training yard. Perhaps he isn’t going to mention it to save her the embarrassment.  
  
“It was productive. I’ve almost finished my plan for training Tarth recruits.”  
  
“Really? Even with all of the tourney planning?”  
  
“Oh yes. I am capable of working on multiple projects at once,” she teases.  
  
“I’m sure you are,” he replies, glancing at her with a smile. “How many Tarth healers are you going to train?”  
  
“I think I will train two healers to begin with. I can work closely with them and hopefully through them we will form a stronger friendship with Tarth. And Clarke will be home soon too which will make it three trainees. I want to be able to give them my full attention.”  
  
“That sounds like a solid plan.”  
  
“You’re singing a different tune,” Abby says, remembering how they had argued with each other about this in the Council chambers.  
  
“Truthfully, I didn’t dislike the idea,” he admits, turning towards her as they walk.  
  
“Then why did you-”  
  
“I was tired of you ignoring me. It was the only way you’d look at me.”  
  
“Oh,” she says, breaking their eye-contact.  
  
“It’s alright. I offended you that morning when you were bathing in the river, I understand why you were upset and ignored me.”  
  
“No, that wasn’t why…” Abby trails off, remembering that morning in vivid detail. She can still see his dripping, wet muscles, the way the morning light had bounced off of his flesh making him look God-like. And she vividly remembers the dozens of times she made herself climax thinking about that morning. She finds herself blushing slightly and she shakes her head, looking around and trying to find something else to talk about.  
  
“Why...?” he looks at her curiously.  
  
“Where are you taking me?” she avoids his question, realising she doesn’t know where they’re going. This isn’t the way to the river where she had assumed he was taking her.  
  
“Nowhere you won’t love.”  
  
He looks at her with the smug expression she used to hate. She used to see it next to her at council meetings whenever he got his way on an issue. She used to have the most unladylike visions of punching it off of his face, now she thinks she might kiss it away instead.  
  
“For your sake, I hope I love it,” she grumbles without meaning it.  
  
They keep walking in silence; Abby wants to ask him about how his afternoon was but then that means mentioning her appearance at the barracks and she’d quite like to forget that. She can tell Marcus will tease her for it and the memory of seeing him shirtless and fighting is stirring her loins again. Raven’s description of him being muscled like a maiden’s fantasy isn’t inaccurate.  
  
“Oh, this is beautiful,” she gasps when they reach the southern beach.  
  
The sun is low on the horizon and the sky is starting to turn a dusty pink colour over the Narrow Sea. There are no clouds tonight so the water blends in seamlessly with the sky, both seeming to stretch for an eternity. There are a few other people out on the beach but most people are at home or at the taverns and dining halls eating their dinner right now. Marcus lays out a rug on the sand and they settle on it. He’s brought an assortment of food which looks and smells delicious.  
  
“Is this the kind of meal you ate in Dorne?” she asks, remembering how he had told her he missed their small dishes.  
  
“Yes, we always had lots of different food at every meal.”  
  
“It looks wonderful,” she smiles.  
  
They start eating in a comfortable silence, both watching the sky change into brilliant pinks and oranges until fading into purple and dark blue. Abby tries at least one of everything - cheese, ham, olives, sardines, eggs, bread, cold corn fritters, cherries, dried apples and finally a berry tart - until she can’t possibly eat anything else. She comments on every item and they trade more stories about their favourite meals and childhoods. Abby describes a disastrous attempt she made at cooking a pigeon pie which ended up raw in the middle, while Marcus recounts the many times he almost sliced off a finger while gutting a fish as a child. The moon and stars eventually start to light the sky up around them and Abby lies back on the rug. Marcus is still eating beside her and she can’t believe he is still hungry.  
  
“How can you eat so much?” she asks, turning her head towards him.  
  
“I worked up a sweat today in the training yard… but you knew that already,” he grins down at her, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight.  
  
“Oh, god…” Abby groans.  
  
“Did you enjoy the view?” Marcus laughs, leaning down towards her.  
  
She shakes her head, refusing to answer, and stares at the sand in embarrassment.  
  
“Did you like my arms best?” she can feel him watching her carefully. Her cunt is tingling with his every word and a thousand images of his body are flashing through her mind. She should have touched herself before this date so she wouldn’t be so easily excited. “Or my chest? My back? My ass…” She feels her breath hitch. “Oh, Abby.”  
  
She can feel his breath on her face and she looks up to find him leaning over her with a grin. His voice may be teasing but his eyes are intensely serious as he watches her.  
  
“I like that you watched me,” he murmurs.  
  
“You do?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I… like watching you,” Abby says, finding her courage. She’s been coquettish with him before, but something about being caught gazing lustfully at him makes her embarrassed… knowing he likes it, however, makes her want more.  
  
“I know you do,” he says, his eyes dropping to her lips. “Why do you like it?”  
  
“Well, you’re very… attractive,” she whispers, feeling her sex getting slick with liquid.  
  
“And?”  
  
“And… it arouses me.”  
  
Marcus groans and she doesn’t know who moves first but suddenly he is kissing her, his tongue in her mouth and her hands in his hair. His body presses down against hers and she realises she can feel his erection against her thigh. That recognition sends a jolt of pleasure straight to her loins and she gasps against his mouth. She slides her hands through his luscious hair and down to his strong shoulders, enjoying the feel of his warrior body under her fingertips.  
  
Abby’s nipples have become hard peaks in her thin dress, straining against the fabric. He pulls away from her mouth to place kisses along her neck and shoulders, pulling down her loose dress to free her breasts. He swirls his tongue around her left breast, edging in towards her nipple and she sighs in pleasure, raking her fingers through his thick hair. She arches her back to press her chest up against him and she can tell he’s as intensely aroused as she is by the way that he shudders. He flicks her nipple with his tongue and she moans in pleasure, cutting into the quiet beach around them.  
  
“We’re on the beach!” she exclaims suddenly, pushing on his shoulders to make him look up from her chest.  
  
“It’s nighttime and everyone else has left…” he says, brushing his chin against her sensitive breast and making her shudder.  
  
“Mmm... ” she can still feel his hard cock against her thigh and her body aches for his touch. She feels the heat radiating off of his body and after a moment’s consideration she pulls him back down towards her, their public location be damned.  
  
“You’re beautiful… I love your breasts,” he murmurs, hovering over them.  
  
“Thank you,” she smiles.  
  
She watches as he admires her breasts for a moment before dipping his head back down to kiss them. Her skin is pale in the moonlight in contrast to his midnight black hair. She trails her fingers over his jaw and into his soft locks and enjoys the sigh he makes against her skin. He is subtly pushing his hips forward, rocking his cock against her thigh and she yearns to touch it. She slides her hands down over his shoulders and back, urgently pulling at his shirt and he follows her lead, shifting his weight to his left arm so he can explore her body with his right. He guides his large hand over her clothed stomach and down to her thigh, pushing up her light dress to expose her dripping cunt. She squirms in anticipation, enjoying his confident actions.  
  
He wastes no time in brushing his hand over the patch of hair between her legs and parting her folds with his fingers. She gasps as he slides his thumb around her sensitive clit and strokes the outside of her cunt, sending ripples of pleasure through her groin. She spreads her legs and wriggles her hips down towards his hand, wanting to feel him inside her.  
  
“More,” she moans, hurrying to undo his shirt lacings so she can touch his bare chest.  
  
“As you wish,” he replies, sliding two fingers inside her.  
  
“Ohh!” she cries out, digging her nails into his chest. He thrusts his fingers into her slick cunt repeatedly and the pleasure is already almost more than she can bear. She slides her hands down his sides, needing something to hold onto with the intensity of the pleasure he is giving her. She reaches her hands down to his clothed buttocks and pulls him against her, pressing his cock more firmly to her thigh.  
  
“Oh, fuck, Abby,” he gasps, sucking harshly on her nipple in response.  
  
Marcus kisses his way back up her body to suck on her neck, rutting himself against her hip and fucking her quickly with his fingers. She isn’t going to last much longer and she senses he won’t either. Her body is shaking with pleasure and as she feels her climax approaching she slips a hand between them to delve inside his pants and grasp his cock.  
  
“Fuck!” he moans, bucking his hips as she strokes his thick cock as best she can at this angle.  
  
“Marcus,” she cries out as his thumb repeatedly swirls around her clit and his fingers delve inside her and it all becomes too much. Her body erupts with pleasure and she squeezes his cock tight, moaning loudly as she succumbs to the feeling.  
  
“Fuck,” he gasps and she vaguely feels his seed spilling into her hand.  
  
Marcus shudders and then falls to the rug beside her, withdrawing his hand from her cunt so that he can support his weight. Abby’s body is still tingling with pleasure and she feels blissful all over. She feels his cock softening in her hand and she withdraws it, her fingers sticky with his seed.  
  
“Use the rug,” he says in between gasps for breath.  
  
She wipes her hand on the rug beside them as directed, feeling dazed and not quite in control of her limbs. She lies still beneath him, enjoying the aftermath and the feel of his hot, heavy body half pressed against her. She sighs contently when she feels Marcus’ hand gently glide over her skin from her shoulder to a bare breast.  
  
“Mmm,” he hums, squeezing it gently.  
  
She giggles, unable to conjure a proper sentence, and brings her hands up to tangle them in his hair. She feels his lips against her shoulder and yearns for them. She tugs on his hair gently and he understands, slowly shifting so he is hovering over her. She smiles up at him, just able to see his features in the moonlight, and he is smiling too.  
  
Their kiss is slow and loving; after climaxing together there is no need to increase the passion, they simply enjoy the gentle kiss. Eventually they pull apart and Marcus helps to adjust her dress so she is covered once more. She sits up to help him re-lace his shirt and finds herself giggling again.  
  
“The beach… I cannot believe it,” she blushes.  
  
“It seems I am a terrible influence on you…” he laughs, playing with the ends of her hair.  
  
“My wild Dornishman,” she teases.  
  
“Passion need not be contained to the bedroom,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her once more. “I should take you home before any more debauchery happens.”  
  
They wash their hands in the ocean and he packs up the picnic basket and rug before leading her back through the streets to the Keep. They don't talk much on the way home but neither of them can keep the smiles off their faces. It is with reluctance that she bids him goodnight at the door and says she will see him at their next council meeting. Marcus is spending the next two days in intense training drills and she has plans with Raven and Calliope, and she is certain the women will want details about Marcus.  
  
  



End file.
